"A hunt!" Mot bayed, and half laughed, half growled. "How appropriate that we took this form, then!"

DareWing did not reply to that. The Demons had known of the nature of the challenge, and had picked their forms to suit.

Goldman indicated the dead forest behind him with his staff. "A bear and her cub haunt these woods, making it unsafe for —"

"For who?" Barzula asked, his canine mouth grinning slyly.

"For any who would walk beneath the trees," Goldman said. "Will you track her down for us?"

"We like to hunt," Mot said, and both hounds giggled. "We will do as you ask."

And without further ado, the two corrupted hounds pushed their way past Goldman and Barzula, and loped into the skeletal trees.

They tracked for hours. Many times the hounds bayed in excitement as they picked up the great bear's scent, and as many times their tails and ears drooped after a few minutes of following the trail, only to have it fade into non-existence. Goldman and DareWing followed behind, silent, watchful, patient.

In the late afternoon the hounds became frustrated, snapping and snarling at every shadow, every trick of the wind. They savaged tree trunks, tearing great gouges into the dead wood, and dug furious, futile holes in the drifting dirt, defecating quickly into them before moving on to find something else to destroy and corrupt.

They had almost forgotten the bear.

"There!" Dare Wing cried as the shadows lengthened and crept one into each other. "There!"

Barzula and Mot picked up their heads and pricked their ears.

There!

A darker and more ominous shadow moving behind some trees only twenty paces away.

The hounds bayed in excitement, and the shadow roared.

The hunt was on.

The hounds dashed forth, DareWing and Goldman running behind them as fast as they could.

The bear — all could see her clearly now — rose on her hind legs, swiping furiously at the attacking hounds in order to protect the six-month-old cub cowering behind her. Then, deciding it were better for the safety of her cub to run than fight, the bear swivelled in a graceful, yet powerful, motion, set her cub to run, and followed behind him, keeping the hounds at bay with growls and the odd slash of her powerful and deadly talons.

The hounds chased her, and the huntsmen chased both bear and hounds.

Night closed in.

The hunt grew ever more desperate. The bear was wounded now, as were both of the hounds, although neither the hunted nor the hunters were hurt seriously.

But blood scattered the trail, and sent the hounds into an ecstasy of savagery.

As the moon rose, the bear blundered into a blind gully. Sheer rock walls rose on either side, hounds and huntsmen trapped her from behind.

Desperate, for her cub was exhausted and would surely need rest soon, the bear pushed him towards a steep wall of rock and loose stones at the end of the gully.

They would have to climb it to escape the hounds.

The bear nosed her cub forward, encouraged him with hot breath and deep love, and his small paws rattled and slipped on the loose rock.

Mot and Barzula attacked from behind, tearing pieces of pelt and flesh from the bear's hindquarters.

She turned on them, growling and roaring with all the savagery she could muster.

Behind her, the young cub clawed desperately up the scree.

A stone slipped.

He scrambled further, hearing the desperation in his mother's voice, and knowing he would be torn to pieces if the hounds managed to get past her and reach —

Another stone slipped, and suddenly, frightfully, the bear cub was fighting for purchase on the slipping, sliding scree.

The entire wall of rock began to move. Slowly, but inexorably.

Both hounds backed off, watching the sliding rock wall carefully ... and speculatively.

The mother bear turned about, crying frantically to her child.

He had been almost halfway up the slope, but now he was sliding down amid the avalanche of rocks and stones.

His cries were piteous to hear.

The bear was desperate, making reckless leaps upwards to try to reach her son, only to tumble downwards again.

The rocks slid ever further ever faster.

Suddenly there was a massive roar, and the entire rock slope collapsed.

DareWing and Goldman dashed out of the way, the two demonic hounds behind them, as a huge cloud of dust and small stone fragments rose up about them. Goldman and DareWing dove under the cover of a rock overhang, flinging their arms about their heads and curling their bodies into tight balls in order to protect themselves from the shrapnel flying through the air. They felt the hounds' paws scrabbling furiously over their bodies, as the hounds used the two men to protect themselves from the onslaught.

And then, silence.

Slowly, both men and hounds unwound themselves and stood up, brushing and shaking themselves free of rock dust.

Shafts of moonlight fell over a massive pile of rubble at the foot of the pile of loose rock.

The mother bear was dead, almost completely buried under the fallen scree. Only part of one of her forelegs and its paw protruded. That, and a spreading pool of blood that seeped its way free from under the rock.

Goldman and DareWing stared as Mot and Barzula came to stand by their side.

"Well," Mot remarked, "there's not much choice going on here, is —"

A pitiful cry from about a third of the way up the rock jumble stopped the Demon, and all four jerked their eyes up to look.

It was the bear cub, lying horribly injured under several rocks. A pace above it was an immense boulder, precariously balanced on the landslip.

Even as they watched, the boulder wobbled, threatening to roll its ponderous way down over the bear cub.